


I Saw You and the World Went Away

by mikeywaypt2



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Palaye Royale (Band), Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble Collection, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Warped Tour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-10-28 13:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20779439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeywaypt2/pseuds/mikeywaypt2
Summary: A series of one shot soulmate AUs with various band members and various ships! I will update tags as I add new content! Title for the work as a whole comes from the song Tonight from West Side Story.





	1. Articulate and Lonely Enough for the Two of Us (If You Want To

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first work on AO3 and my first bandom fanfic! However, I have been doing bandom RP for years and wrote fanfics years back on fanfic.net (mostly musical theater. Is that a category here??? Is ff still around???). Anyway, for reasons I cannot explain I super ship Emerson Barrett and Awsten Knight, so I decided to start with them! 
> 
> If there's any chapter you really enjoy tell me and I might make it into its own collection or try a longer work built off of it! Also, feel free to suggest ships for future chapters in the comments!  
Title for this chapter is from Sleep Alone by Waterparks. 
> 
> Final note, I didn't have anyone beta and I zone out when trying to proof read my own stuff so I apologize for any errors!

> _"Soulmates have heterochromatic eyes and one eye is the color of their own eyes and the other is of their soulmate’s."_

Emerson had spent his whole life convinced that he didn't have a soulmate. After all, no one he knew of that had a soulmate had two eyes that looked exactly the same. No, one was theirs and the other was that of their soulmate and the other was theirs, only to right itself when the two finally met- or so the story went. No one he knew was born with a matching set of eyes hell, his mother's were still too different colors and all three Kropp boys seemed to share an unspoken sense of relief that their father hadn't truly been the one for her. Rather,they were treated with a glimpse through the winow to their future lover's soul everytime they caught a glimpse of their own reflection. Emerson didn't get that. He looked into a mirror and saw a future alone.  
It would creep up on him randomly and the depression that came with the thought of eternal lonliness threatened to suffocate him. He had avoided dating up to this point in his life, not wanting to have to cope with a partner that he's fallen for finding their soulmate and leaving him. It was normally easy enough to shake the thought and store it away somewhere that he didn't have to analyze it, but not today. Remington had met his soulmate a few months back. His name was Luis and he was really good at photography and videography and the band had initially contacted him to see about doing videos on tour. When he showed up for the meeting, looked straight at Remington, and everyone watched their colors of their eyes shift and settled he was hired indefinitely on the spot, no further questions asked. 

They were all stationed in Emerson and Remington's living room- both boys who lived there, Sebastian, their mother, Curcio, Austin, Luis, basically anyone instrumental to their life and work on the road- to plan everything out for their next summer on Warped Tour. They had finished a long, almost painful adjustment and finalization of the setlist and they'd taken a break while Stephanie ordered lunch for everyone. Emerson and Austin would be presenting the new merch concepts next, but some items would be arriving very last minute, so Emerson grabbed his laptop to pull up the pictures of everything they had designed. He got distracted when he noticed that he still had Twitter open in some tab. He settled down on one end of the sofa, opposite of where Remington was curled up, entangled in a mess of long limbs with his relatively new boyfriend. 

It didn't take long for him looking through notifications to become looking over Awsten Knight's tweets. He would never say it outloud, but he felt like his heart started an odd sort of thrumming when he thought about Awsten. He craved the other man in a way he couldn't quite explain. He refused to make a move though. Not when he was so sure Awsten's soulmate would show up and ruin everything. He knew they would make a good pair though. They would balance each other. Emerson was quiet and reserved until he trusted you, he was brooding and kept to himself. Awsten was all caps locks and color and seemed to enjoy the company of others, but Emerson always picked up on the soft moments in interviews. He knew their two forces coliding would make the world a beautiful sort of koldescope and there was an ache of longing in his gut that he planned to never express. 

The thing was, he didn't have to say a word. It was obvious. At least it was to Remington, who was tired of seeing his baby brother miserable all the time. He just wanted to see the younger man go for something for once. He wanted Emerson to put less weight on this concept of a soulmate and see that, even if he didn't have one, love was a powerful source on its own if he'd just let it happen. So, when his brother stepped out of the room to go grab the food, Remington sent a DM to Awsten and set up a meeting for the pair on the first day of tour, including some bullshit about being locked out of the app on his phone and asking that the singer confirm everything with Remington before he erased the evidence and set the laptop down again. 

\-----------------------

When Awsten saw the message on Twitter during a break in band practice he was pretty suprised. The end of said message made it pretty clear that the message was sent by Remington, Awsten was more than smart enough to catch that. From what he knew of the brothers though he didn't think this was some kind of a prank and that was what made him freeze in place and ignore the story Geoff was trying to tell. 

Awsten would be a dirty fucking liar if he claimed he'd never really thought about Emerson beyond his opinion on the music and his social media posts. He was definitely intrigued on so many levels. In his mind, the other man was a work of art. The long legs, the face that was somehow both soft and well definied, the long legs and the lean muscles resting atop a slender frame and rippling as he moved, the long and wild raven hair, and those eyes. Awsten knew that he had a soulmate. He had one blue eye and one green-hazel eye. The fact that Emerson was the only one of his brothers sans partner and somehow still had two matching, haunting orbs really struck Awsten the first time he took a good look at them. He didn't know why, but he'd spent hour upon hour comparing and he was convinced that they were a nearly perfect match for his own green one. 

The interest went much deeper than the physical though. Somehow, Emerson seemed like someone very at peace with himself, but still gave off the vibe of someone shy who liked to keep distant, a willow tree trying to hide himself from the world. It was an almost paradox, personality traits that almost seemed to conflict and draped him in a heavy sense of mystery. A mystery wrapped up in a dark and beautiful package that Awsten knew deep down that he would do anything for a chance to unwrap. He wanted to understand the mechanics of the other man's mind and what made him tick, to know him better than Awsten knew himself. He wanted to hear the other talk to him about art and history and philosophy. He wanted to hear his heartbeat and feel him breathe. In his chest and in his gut there was a deep ache, screaming that he wanted Emerson. So, he had to do this.  
He was just about to type out a response, fingers itching to type something smooth or witty, when he heard his voice behind him. 

"Hey! Earth to Awsten--"

It was Otto. He turned to find him and Geoff both staring at him. 

"You okay?" Geoff asked, head tilted slightly as he stared at Awsten. The blue haired man couldn't shake the feeling that the other was trying to look right through his flesh and his bones, down into his soul. "You've been totally checked out for at least the last five minutes." 

Awsten blinked, mentally shaking the anxiety that had started to bubble up in response to that stare and flashed a reassuring smile. "Yeah, sorry. Got a little distracted. Back to practice?"  
He'd just have to set things up later. 

\------------------------  
When the first day of Warped rolled around, Emerson was already annoyed. The schedule for this tour didn't fit with how he slept. They had already spent several days on their bus to get to the first stop and now he would be forced to play at times that didn't fit with his schedule- hours usually spent sleeping or drawing or otherwise isolating. It was going to be a long, hot, sweaty summer and Emerson knew that. However, he also knew that once he got intp the swing of things he would really enjoy himself.  
Regardless, they were just getting started, Emerson was cranky and wanted to be alone, Remington had way too much energy and kept flashing him these weird smiles that made him feel anxious for some reason, and now there was a group effort to force him to go to this barbeque that tour management was hosting for everyone. He followed along behind his brothers, holding the oversized sketchpad that he planned to use to avoid people after he got food close to his chest, and tried to ignore Remington chattering endlessly about whoever they were supposed to be meeting. 

"Hey! Awsten! Over here!"  
When Remington stopped and screamed that Emerson wished he had been listening and calculating an exit route. He didn't want to talk to Awsten. He wanted to be able to keep the happy thought that maybe they were secretly soulmates deep inside for the days when he needed hope, but now they'd make eye contact and everything would stay exactly the same and he would be reminded that he would never know what it was like to have a soulmate. He tried to walk back in the other direction, but Remington spun him back around and his hat was knocked off in the process, leaving an unobstructed and direct line of sight into his eyes. 

Awsten made sure to make it seem normal, like he was addressing the band as a whole, but he and Remington both knew that this was all for him to meet Emerson, so he kept his gaze locked on the youngest of the brothers as he flashed a wide smile, moving closer. "Hey guys, I--" 

That was as far as Awsten got before the earthquake of a change happened. He felt a warmth behind his eyes, saw a brightness almost like staring straight into the sun the moment that his eye's met Emerson's and the brothers watched as his eyes changed to a matching set of cool, icy blue orbs. Emerson could feel his breath catch on its way out of his chest, heart pounding rapidly and knees going weak. Thankfully Remington and Sebastian noticed and kept him on his feet as Awsten closed the last bit of distance. He could feel his face heating and tears forming in his eyes at the relief of actually having a soulmate. "Hi..." 

And there it was. There was that shy, quiet demeanor that captivated Awsten. The other man's voice was soft and his gaze constantly flitted between the man with the blue hair and the dying grass under their feet. He was so enamored, looking for something worthwhile to say when the moment was interrupted by Remington. 

"Ha! I knew it! I fucking told you, Em!" He cheered with a grin, laughing whe his younger brother nudged him. "Go! Talk to your soulmate! Bond with each other!"

Awsten flashed Emerson another smile as he finally caught his own breath. "Uh, Geoff and Otto are still on ours. Not that I don't want to introduce you, but, I thought maybe some space would be--"

"Ours is empty,go." This time it was Sebastian to interject and Emerson couldn't help the glare that he cast his brothers, face only softening when he heard a fond laugh burst from Awsten's lips, as if they've known each other for several years instead of a few minutes. He turned back to the shorter man, hesitating for only a split second before taking his hand. 

Awsten squeezed gently and Emerson led the way to Palaye's bus, opening and closing his mouth several times to try to find something to say and getting increasingly frustrated as he realized he couldn't form a sentence that felt worth sayinng. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Awsten's voice drifted up to him. 

"Emerson? Are you okay?" 

Emerson looked down, free hand nervously adjusting the large black hat that perched atop his head."It's just... I lived my whole life thinking that I didn't have a soulmate. I gave up hope a long, long time ago, so, I never pictured what it might be like or thought of what I would say. Now I can't find any words that feel worthy." 

"So don't search for them," the older man suggested with a shrug. "They'll come when they come. There's no point in wasting words just to fill the space between us. I'm fine with the silence. It's comfortable." 

Emerson smiled ever so slightly, watching Awsten for a moment before he took a deep breath and leaned in to press his lips to the other's. His eyes shut and he found he wasn't even insecure about the fact that this was his first kiss or that his soulmate's lips seemed much more experienced. This felt right. There was a comfortable warmth in the pit of his stomach and fireworks exploding in his mind, both sensations intensifying as the kiss became colored darker and darker with desperation and passion until it was more teeth and tongues than lips. 

Awsten was the first to pull away, letting out a breathless chuckle as he looked up adoringly to Emerson. "You sure you never kissed anyone before?" He asked, smirking wickedly at the blush that quickly heated up Emerson's pale cheeks. "C'mon. Which bus is yours?" 

The raven haired young man grabbed Awsten's hand and headed to their bus as fast as his legs would carry him, practically dragging the other. He hands shook as he struggled to open the door and he felt a shiver run through him as Awsten's fingertips skimmed over his hips and sides while his lips pressed kisses to his spine and shoulder blades. They sort of tumbled in when he finally managed and let the door slam shut behind him, Emerson leading the way straight to his bunk without it needing to be suggested. 

The logistics of shoving clothes to the foot of his bed and then stripping off his already unbuttoned shirt were simple but annoying to Emerson. He tossed that shirt on top of the pile of clothing he'd just moved before turning his gaze toward Awsten and taking him in as his tshirt was slipped off over his head. Soon enough they were settling into bunk, Emerson stretched out on the sheets and Awsten positioned on top of him. It didn't take long for them to get into a silent sort of flow, lips and flesh and tongues exploring each other until Emerson wasn't sure where he ended and Awsten began. He couldn't help but think that he was okay with making love before they really started talking- an he wouldn't think about the fact that the term "fucking" felt too crude until much later-wanting to physically express how wonderfully overwhelmed meeting his soulmate had made him. For once he felt like a star planted in the middle of his chest rather than a blackhole and each and every touch made it burn brighter until every thought was _Awsten, Awsten, Awsten_. 

\----------------  
Awsten didn't know how long they laid there together before he heard the door open and the rest of Emerson's band shuffle in. They'd caught their breath after they'd finished, basking in the sweaty afterglow with soft giggles and gentle and oddly innocent kisses. When they'd caught their breath they'd redressed and cuddled into each other and talked about every thought that came into their heads. By time they'd gotten too tired to keep talking, Emerson's voice clouded with exhaustion, they'd talked about everything from their childhoods to favorite movies to dream city to retire to and what they'd pictured their future family like. 

Now Emerson was sound asleep, face half buried in the pillow and arm blocking the other side from any potential source of light. Awsten kept an arm firmly wrapped around his newfound boyfriend as he shifted to pull the curtain back slightly and shush them softly. "He's sleeping." 

Remington giggled and raised an eyebrow. "Nice sex hair, Huston." 

Sebastian rolled his eyews as he nudged the middle brother and squeezed past. "Staying the night?" 

Awsten nodded and the brothers exchanged a knowing look. 

"We'll keep it down. Let us know if you need anything," Remington offered. The blue haired man nodded and started to close the curtain until he heard Sebastian speak up. 

"Oh, and Awsten? If you hurt our baby brother no one will ever find your body. Got it?" 

Awsten's brow furrowed until he looked down at Emerson's sleeping figure again. A smile spread across his features. "I would never. Goodnight," he mumbled before closing the curtains and laying down to let his boyfriend's slow, deep breaths soothe him to sleep as well. 


	2. You Don't Wanna See the Sun Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just start with trigger warnings for the chapter and move from there! 
> 
> The major character death tag in the story is for this one shot. This chapter does involve suicide. The suicide itself isn't written out and the scene regarding it is vague, but, it's in there. The story mostly deals with Pete and Mikey meeting, various sad moments in their relationship, the events leading up to the death, and the immediate aftermath. 
> 
> I really meant to write a happy Petekey fic but HA NOPE NOT THIS ONE APPARENTLY. 
> 
> Also, I started writing this the day after I published the first chapter, but, my laptop keyboard got super destroyed and using the onscreen one was too frustrating. I got a USB keyboard today and had to finish it up. 
> 
> Chapter title is from the song When It Rains by Paramore! 
> 
> Kudos and comments warm my cold, black little heart and i always welcome ship suggestions for further chapters!

> only you can see the timer above your soulmates head that counts down to their death and you - for one reason or another - can’t tell them

Pete really hated this timer bullshit. He hated that it wasn't a solid, concrete thing. It fluctuated. Random events and choices seemed to trigger it to jump years of the time to dive so rapidly that he couldn't breathe. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, maybe his own timer didn't work. There were times when Mikey would be upset and on edge and Pete could tell at this point, he knew to watch his every move and proceed throughout his day with the most caution he could. Sometimes it was only a matter of hours and sometimes it was several days, but Mikey would always revert back to his normal self and Pete would assume he was out of danger for now. The worst part of it all had to be the fact that they were physically unable to tell the other. It was cruel that the universe let them know down to the minute when your soulmate would die, but you weren't able to fuck with destiny directly. Sure, you could make guesses and try to do what you thought would keep your loved one alive but the fear of failure would always crush Pete's chest until he knew for a fact that it had worked. 

He wasn't sure how exactly, but it had become evident over time that he somehow controlled his panic much better than Mikey did. His husband still didn't seem to pick it up from Pete's behavior that his timer was running low. Pete had to be on top of Mikey constantly, any lapse of diligence and it was game over. He'd figured out Mikey years ago during a stupid argument.

_Pete didn't understand why Mikey was being so ridiculously explosive right now. He just wanted coffee. He craved some stupid fucking Starbucks and Mikey refused to let him leave the house. It had been a long week- well, more like a long year. They'd gotten married two months ago. The six months before that had been spent planning a quick wedding after a long engagement that everyone agreed needed to end, along with searching for and buying a house. The wedding was, of course, a whirlwind and both men had decided to go ahead and list their individual houses for sale so that after their honeymoon they could work on packing up all of their personal belongings and moving into the home that would host this new chapter of their lives. After a month of running around Europe and Asia they made their way back to LA. They'd started with all of the packing and moving the furniture they'd be keeping and taking the rest off to donate. _

_They'd finally moved the rest of the boxes in today and Pete was exhuasted. He could feel a migraine blooming behind his eyes, only made worse by this current fight. _

_"Pete, please, we have instant. I know it's not the same, but, I'll even make it for you and we can cuddle on the couch and if you still want Starbucks in the morning then I'll even go get it for you." Mikey's continued begging cut through Pete's thoughts, pulling him back to the present with a groan._

_"Fuck, Mikes, I just need a few minutes outside to clear my head. Why are you being so clingy? I've been by your side practically every second since the wedding," he snapped, rubbing at his temples. He knew he'd fucked up when he saw the hurt expression that masked his husband's face, something akin to a kicked puppy dog. Guilt instantly uncoiled in the pit of Pete's stomach and he was desparate to fix it, but Mikey was first to speak. _

_"I'm sorry," he replied in a whisper, and Pete would have to be brain dead to miss the crack in his husband's voice. Mikey continued to speak swiftly, wide eyes locked on a spot right above Pete's head. "I'm so sorry, I love you so much and I'm not trying to be needy, it's just that your--" That's where he broke off abruptly, looking as if someone had physically wrapped a hand around his throat to keep him from finishing his statement. His mouth opened and closed over and over for what seemed like forever -and if Pete didn't already feel so guilty he probably would have walked outside and ended the discussion right there- until all of the fight drained from his face and Mikey expressed a completely different statement. "I'm scared... I'm so fucking scared... Please, Pete... Please just stay." _

_That was when it clicked for Pete. His timer was about to run out and Mikey was desperately trying to make the sand flow the opposite direction in the hour glass. Feeling like a man moving in slow motion as he was dragged out of a dream, Pete set his keys down and carefully toed off his shoes. He made his way over to Mikey, wrapping his arms around the shaking man."I'm sorry," he began slowly. "I'll stay. Let's go make that instant, okay, Mikeyway?" _  
  
_Despite the fact that he was sniffling and wiping at his eyes, Mikey flashed him a smile. "It's Wentz now, you dork," he replied before leaning in to press his lips briefly to Pete's before leading the way into their new kitchen in their new house that they had picked and purchased together. _

_Pete still remembers that night. Mikey had curled up on the couch and fallen asleep right there on his chest when Pete saw a report of a massive car accident right outside of the Starbucks he'd planned to go to. He decided not to tell his husband about it. _

He also remembers meeting Mikey and seeing that stupid timer for the first time. It was during Warped Tour in 2005 and Pete can still remember how his heart sank. 

  
_Pete wasn't exactly dumb, he knew who the members of My Chem were, but he didn't exactly know them. So he had been filled with excitement as soon as he knew that they would be on the tour together. If he was being honest with himself, he was attracted to Mikey and he wanted to see if a summer on the road together would lead to anything. _

_It was the first day of tour and Pete had already planned everything out and was leading the other members of Fall Out Boy over to My Chemical Romance's bus as soon as they had a free moment. There was only a brief pause between him knocking and the door swinging open to reveal an already pretty buzzed Gerard, who quickly welcomed them in. Pete made sure to be polite and speak to all of them, but his focus was all on Mikey. The other man was situated in a corner, brow furrowed as his gaze flitted back and forth over the page of a book on his lap until he apparently found a good place to stop. Then it was like everything was moving in slow motion. _

_Mikey shut the book and lifted his gaze, zeroing in on Peteright away, and his world officially exploded. Mikey was flashing him that rare, signature grin of his, a smile that would have stopped Pete's heartbeat all on its own. But there was more. There was the timer that he saw suddenly flash into view above the man's head- Pete's soulmate. he'd found them and they were Mikey fucking Way. He was in utter awe, though it only lasted for a fraction of a second before a wave of despair crashed over Pete as the number registered in his brain. Eight hours. Eight hours with the seconds rapidly slipping away. Why was he not surprised? Of course the universe with its relentless vendetta against Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III couldn't be kind enough to spare him more than a single night of happiness. _

_He turned to look behind him, eyes searching wildly until he spotted Patrick and grabbed the slightly shorter man's wrist in a trembling grip. "'Trick, need to talk, please, alone." _

_Patrick looked at Pete, brow furrowing in concern before he looked around at the others. "We'll be right back," he promised everyone before making his way outside with Pete. "Hey, what is it? What's wrong? " _

_Pete was silent for several moments, looking for the rarely smoked pack of cigarettes and the white lighter that he could swear were in one of his pockets. He finally found them and placed one of the sticks between his lips, thnough his hands shook too hard to work the lighter and Patrick had to take over. He took a long drag from it, not shocked by the fact that they were beyond stale but just counting on the nicotine to calm his body if it couldn't fix his thoughts. "it's him," he finally whispered, voice shaking as he stared up at the darkening sky and caught his lower lip between his teeth. _

_"What are you talking about? What's who?"_

_"My soulmate. It's Mikey," Pete clarified, taking another drag from the cigarette before repeating it out loud again, trying to test the feeling of the words on his tongue. "Mikeyway is my soulmate." _

_Patrick looked at his best friend, clearly still missing some vital piece of information. "Is that... bad? I thought you had some massive crush." _

_"No," Pete choked out before realizing that he wasn't making any sense. He shook his head, kicking at a clump of dirt anxiously now. "I mean. Yes. I do have a fucking crush and i am absolutely thrilled that it's him, but--" Pete broke off with a whimper that clearly only made the other man more concerned, tears welling up in his eyes that he tried to fight against, tried to hold back for the sake of being calm for long enough to explain. "His timer, Patrick. His fucking timer. He's-- Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck--" _

_It was starting to click for Patrick now. He wrapped his arms around Pete, held his friend close as he tried to soothe and work through this logically for him. "How long?"_

_"Eight hours," Pete answered before a sob broke from his chest. "Only eight fucking hours. If I wasn't convincedthe universefucking hated me before I'm sure of it now. It's so-- So cruel,. To toss happiness at me but only give me eight hours. Not even a whole day, Patrick. No actually getting together, getting to know each other, settling down, having a family. No house with a few dogs. I don't get to have it. I don't get the bright, shining future that they've shoved in our faces for so many years. I don't know what i did, i don't know why i deservethis or how I can fix it but--" _

_"Stop that,' Patrick cut him off firmly. "No one hates you, certainly not the universe. You didn't do shit, Pete. Sometimesthings suck. Sometimes bad things just happen." _

_"Eight hours and then thetiny bit of light my world was promised is gone forever," Pete whispered, looking smaller and more broken than he ever had before. 'What do i do, 'Trick?' _

_Patrick hesitated, determined to give him the best answer possible. "You go back in there, Pete. You fucking go back in there and you sit with him. Maybe.. Maybe it's not set in stone?" He didn't want to suggest anything that would create false hope to crush the other later, but, he had to do something. Besides, before tonight neither of them had a clue who their soulmate was. They didn't know exactly how it worked. No one ever told them everything. "And if it is and that's it then... Then I'm sorry, but that's it. You'll have your eight hours and you'll cherish them and then you will keep on fucking living because that's what you deserve and that's what's right and you WILL be happy again. Okay, Pete?" _

_Pete sniffled and nodded, wiping hastily at his eyes and probably smearing eyeliner underneath them and down his cheeks. He finished his cigarette and threw the butt down, taking a few moments to breathe as he crushed the filter down into the dirt until it stopped smoking. "okay... Okay, I can do this." _

_"yeah, you can," Patrick reassured, leading the way back inside. _

_So Pete sat with Mikey. He sat with them and they talked and they smiled and they laughed until Mikey was ready to go to bed and invited Pete to stay on their bus for the night- just to sleep, he had been sure to emphasize. _

_So Pete said yes. He said yes and they went to Mikey's bunk and they curled up together, fitting perfectly against each other's sides like connecting puzzle pieces. They whispered to each other, they shared fleeting kisses, Pete rubbed Mikey's back and he never took his eyes off the other. He stayed awake when Mikey fell asleep, watching as the hours counted down and then suddenly leapt back up. Five months. It wasn't much better and Pete was afraid of getting hurt worse after getting close, but, he'd take it. It was proof that he should have hope. It was proof that they could change things. So he waited until he was sure that the number was steady and stable and then he let himself drift off to sleep as well. _

That had been so many years ago. Things frequently changed and the only constants for Pete were that there was no constant and he would always love Mikey no matter what. Thing had been pretty good lately. For the most part. That is until a few weeks ago. When Mikey's timer had changed to three weeks. Nothing Pete did seemed capable of pushing it back up. When he'd left for the studio this morning Mikey was down to three days. 

He hadn't wanted to go. He wanted nothing more than to stay home and keep his eye on his husband, to do whatever it took to keep him safe and alive. His husband wasn't getting it though. he'd laughed off the suggestion and insisted that Pete couldn't blow off work, playfully lecturing him about deadlines and contracts and responsibility. Pete couldn't shake the bad feeling spreading in the pit of his stomach, but Mikey had seemed so much better than he had over the last few weeks and he'd finally relented, kissing his husband tenderly and promising pizza and kisses and a Star Wars marathon when he returned. 

That had been thirteen long, hard, busy hours ago. Pete was finally back home, fumbling with his keys as he stood before the front door and tried to comprehend the forbodding feeling that seemed to shroud their home. He finally found the right key and fit it in the lock, pushing the door open and stepping inside. "Mikes?" He called out as he went through his regular process of coming home- lock both locks, shoes under the bench, keys on the hook- still trying to process what felt wrong. "I'm home. Where did you want to get pizza from?" 

No answer. Shit. That's what it was. Silence. Absolute fucking silence. Pete's heart started to race in a panicky sort of way as he ventured further into the house, searching for his husband. He could see light under the crack of the bathroom door, firmly shut whereas they normally left it cracked. Suddenly he was running, dashing to the door and feeling the tiniest bit of relief when he found it unlocked. 

That disappeared as he pulled open the door and took in the scene before him. There was Mikey, curled up on the cold tile floor, surrounded by pill bottles. Pete inhaled sharply, rushed forward, collapsed to his knees beside his husband. "Mikey," he spoke desperately as he started to gather up pill bottles and read the labels, tried to guess how many pills had been left in each. "Mikey, love, can you hear me?" 

More silence. 

He set the bottles down again, fingers reaching out to press to Mikey's neck as his broiw furrowed, holding his breath until he located the weak pulse. He dug his phone from his pocket and dialed 911, silently begging the universe not to do this to him, not to let this be it.  
\----------------------  
Three days. Three days had officially passed and Pete had lost any bit of hope that he'd been clinging on to. The timer had mostly counted down steadily as he spent the days stationed in a chair beside a bed in a stuffy hospital, while Frank and gerard and Mr. and Mrs. Way and what felt like the entire fucking world came and went in an endless, depressing stream. No, no, it was more like wavbes. There was an ebb and flow. High and low tides. Some moments were far too loud, far too crowded and filled with everyone else's grief and leaving no fucking room for Pete's, leaving no oxygen in the room for him to breathe. Others saw Pete alone with his dying husband and his own broken brain and all of the misery that was chipping away at him, making him smaller than he ever thought he could ever be. 

Something odd had happened today. The group gathered at the hospital was manageable- gerard and Frank, Patrick for moral support, and of course Pete- and thr volume of everything felt just right. Then suddenly there was a moment where the timer seemed to glitch. It was almost like it was frozen, ticking a few minutes down and always jumping back up the same amount. He watched it happen for half an hour, wanting to be sure he understood fully before he explained or mentioned it to the other. 

They all spent a few minutes in confused silence before Patrick spoke. "I think that's a sign that you should go eat." 

Pete's jaw dropped and he instantly shook his head. "No. No way. it's today, patrick. " His voice got ragged and breathy as soon as he said that, the true gravity of it all really hitting him again. "It's today and I'm not leaving Mikey's side." 

"Okay, well, you said that the time essentially hasn't changed," patrick challenged. "And guess what, Pete. As far as any of us know, you aren't dying. Not today, not tomorrow, not any time soon. I'm not trying to be harsh, you know that I'm not, but you are a living, breathing human and you hopefully will be for a long, long time. And you know what humans need? they need food. They need rest. And Mikey wants you to take care ofyourself. I know he does. So please, go eat."   
Pete wanted to fight Patrick on it, but, he didn't have the energy. He didn't have the energy for much of anything. "Fine," he whispered as he stood. Fine. He would go and he would eat and he would hurry back. 

And with that thought he left the room. The hospital seemed extra cold today. Maybe it was just Pete though. Maybe it was just a side effect of grief. He didn't know. All he was sure of was that he felt more like one of the ghosts hiding amongst the walls and long corridors than a member of the legions of the living. 

He eventually reached the cafeteria and grabbed some food, trying to just clear his head as he ate. He had time. The timer still said two hours when he left the room. Mikey still had two hours left on this earth. And he could have had so much longer. If only Pete had faked being sick and stayed home. Or left the studio early. Or even fucking taken five minutes to call... 

No. No, he couldn't blame himself. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't. Patrick would kick his ass for that. Hell, Gerard probably would too. 

He finished eating and decided to grab some coffee too, mixing in an absurd amount of sugar with shaking hands and adding a little half and half before he started the long trek back to the room. Something felt not right. Not the normal sort of not right that was expected of the situation. A feeling more like part of him had just been ripped out of his body and taken away. He didn't know why. He didn't have the first clue and he couldn't stop fixating on it until he reached the room. 

The door was open. Why was the door open? Who was crying? Crying wasn't weird, right? Not when Mikey was lying there dying. Except it was different. It was extra broken, extra hurt... like things had changed... 

Pete could feel the coffee slip from his now numb fingers, hear the soft thud of the paper cup hitting the ground and feel the still piping liquid splash against his ankles. It stung. He was still aware that it stung, but there wasn't a single atom within him that could care at the moment. He needed to get inside. He needed to prove his head wrong. 

Except entering the room didn't do that. Instead his fear was confirmed. The timer must have glitched. It hadn't been two hours. It hadn't. He should have still had close to an hour now, except he had gone to eat and come back and instead the heart monitor was blaring a steady and even tone, gerard was sobbing into frank's chest, a nurse was disconnecting IVs and machinery...

And Patrick was staring straight at Pete with a guilty, sad look. 

Pete couldn't breathe. He physically couldn't. His chest felt heavy, his throat felt tight, and his head was spinning so bad that he thought he might collapse. He forced himself forward, stumbled his way to the bedside, pushing past the solemn nurse before he crashed to his knees- the dejavu was horrible, ironic, cruel- and clutched his husband's hand. 

"No," he gasped out, only vaguely aware of the tears cascading down his cheeks now. "no, no, Mikey, Mikey no--" he shook his head and clung tighter, trying to deny what he was seeing, willing it to be fake, trying to turn it into some disgusting prank. "M-Mikey-- you weren't-- You weren't supposed to-- You're so.. You're too young, you're too fucking young to die, you're not supposed to be dead, you're not supposed to fucking leave me--" 

He was shaking with sobs, grateful that Patrick had turned away for the moment and that Gerard and Frank were occupied with attempting to comfort each other. He would have to deal with all of the sad, pitying eyes on him later, when the time came for memorials and funerals and everything else. He would only shatter more if he was being watched now, in the most broken moment he'd yet to experience. "Y-You left me," he sobbed out. "you promised-- You fucking promised that you would never leave me! You promised me you would be by my side! We were supposed to get through this fucked up world together! You were supposed to fucking talk to me and tell me when things got bad so i could fix them, i could have fixed them, i know i could! We were supposed to do that for each other--" 

He broke off, losing any energy to scream just as quickly as it had hit him. Instead he cried until he was too tired to cry anymore, letting his head drop and resting it against the bed. "i love you," he whispered. "I'll always love you... I feel so lost... I already feel so lost... I don't know how to do this by myself..." His gaze lifted, traveled over to Patrick, took in the sour face his friend made as the other forced himself noto to say anything. "i'll figure it out.. I won't give up... I promise I won't..." 

That seemed to be the moment that Patrick took as his cue to move closer, to sit on the floor beside Pete and gently tug him into his arms. "Not alone," Patrick comnmented in a soft, surprisingly even voice. 

"You promise?" Pete questioned. 

"Cross my heart," Patrick replied, thankfully leaving out the part of the phrase about dying. 

Pete took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then nodded. He wasn't okay. Not now. He was beyond hurt. But that was okay. It was normal and expected. It was okay not to be okay until the day that he was. But he had to be brave. He couldn't be afraid to keep on living. Even if right now living was sitting on the hospital floor until he could manage to drag himself home. Even if it was tears and setbacks and breakdowns until he could heal, even just a little. He would do it. They would all do it. Together. For Mikey. And he would hold the memories close to his heart. He would be okay. 


End file.
